


Freudian Slips (and Jungian Panties)

by Beckymonster



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Het, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckymonster/pseuds/Beckymonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby, Ducky, smut.  Should be self explainatory.  Please don't ask for pictures as I'm a far worse artist than I am a writer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freudian Slips (and Jungian Panties)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'Icon' Challenge at NCIS Flashfic. Thanks to Bunny Icons for the icon that inspired this story and to Toomuchfandom for her support.

For the life of him, Ducky could not figure it out. Why, of all the chairs in his office/study/drawing room, did Abby choose to sit on his lap? Not that he was complaining, far from it. He was enjoying it immensely.  
A glass of excellent whiskey in one hand and his other resting, chastely, around the waist of his beautiful, desirable and very dear to his heart, friend. Who was currently conversing with him about spy movies. Life did not get any better than this.

Truth be told, he didn’t want to remember the last time that a beautiful woman graced his lap with her presence. It would be too long ago and it would spoil the moment. He and Abby were very close friends. They were always there for each other; for conversation, company for meals, comfort when their friends were in trouble. This was just an extension of that friendship. Regardless of what his libido might think.

Abby reached over and pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. Ducky shifted slightly in his favourite leather chair as her soft fingertips brushed past the lobe. She did not need to know just how strongly he had reacted to that innocent touch. He was a gentleman and he would treat her with the same respect and gentleness he always did.

Soon she would realise how late it was and make noises about going home. He would politely and firmly tell her that he would not countenance her leaving when there was a perfectly good spare bed for her to use. They had performed this merry dance before and would do so again. She’d protest that she couldn’t press on his hospitality any further that night, before accepting the offer. He’d take her by the hand, show her (again) where the bathroom was, lend her an old shirt of his, before kissing her on the cheek and wishing her pleasant dreams before retiring to his own bed.

If he jerked off to thoughts of what it would be like to make love with her then… that was between him and his right hand. It was just a far more effective way to court sleep than warm milk. It wasn’t as if he’d ever get the chance to find out for real. He was her dear friend and he was more than happy with that.

When her lips brushed his, he had been summoning up the courage to ask if she would do him the honour of accompanying him to a showing of _Casino Royale_. It took him a heartbeat or three to realise the import of what had happened. It had been no friendly peck on the cheek, it was more sensuous and surprising than that.

He looked up at her, a question in his eyes. She met his gaze head on.

“I’m not going to apologize, Ducky.” she stated.

“I wouldn’t want you to.” he replied. “I was simply wondering as to what you meant by it.” he continued, honestly.

Her gaze dropped to the glass of bourbon she held in her hand. “I… want to kiss you, to touch you, Ducky.” she whispered, all pretence at bravado gone. “I don’t mean it to be a pity gesture or anything…”

“Abby, look at me.” he ordered quietly. The young woman raised her head as requested. There was an alien look of nervousness in her eyes, it ill suited her. Slowly he reached up from her waist to cover the hand that still rested on his shoulder from earlier.

“It would seem that you have thought what you are asking for through,” he began, stalling for time. He couldn’t quite believing what she was offering to him. And so help him, even if it was just a one time affair, he was ready to go down on his knees and thank the heavens for it.

She nodded, a small smile turning her mouth up on side. He smiled back at her, willing her to continue.

“People have this idea that you’re a sweet, kindly man - which you are! - but that you’re… ‘safe’. That you’re not interested in sex-”

He couldn’t help the snort of laughter at her words. Unless the parameters had changed since he last checked; he was still interested in sex. He had a pulse and he had a penis - so, yes, he was still interested in sex and would remain so until they put him six feet under. Especially if someone as lovely as Abigail was offering.

“My point exactly!” Abby continued, rattling away in her usual fashion, gesturing with her glass as she did so. “And they don’t see that you’re a gorgeous, sexy man who anyone would be glad to share a bed with.”

He placed his glass on the small table next to the chair they sat on. With gentleness, he took her nearly empty glass and placed it there as well. Once done, he put an arm around her waist and took her hands into his, their fingers lacing on her lap.

“And is that what you would like, Abby?” he asked softly. He wouldn’t push. He is a gentleman and she is his friend. As such he’ll gladly take whatever she willingly offers and no more. He loves her too much for anything less. “Friendship with benefits?”

Her eyes widen in surprise at his words. His mouth curled up in a small smile as he savoured the moment. It’s not every day that one catches Abigail Sciuto out, so he enjoyed the small victory.

“You know about that?” Abby asks, surprise making her voice catch.

“Abby, I have seen and done many things in my time. I am also a doctor and an investigator of sorts.” he began, he didn’t want to get to the point too quickly, he wanted to make sure that she realises that he understands what is on offer and that he wholeheartedly wants it too.  
“I’m more open minded than most, as are you.” he watches her nod in agreement. He squeezed her hands just as he dropped the bombshell. “You would not be the first friend whom I’ve shared such benefits with.”

Her expression turned from surprise and understanding to inquisitiveness in a heartbeat. A cheeky grin appeared on her face as she pleaded with him to confess who the 'other friend' is. Does she know them? Ducky replied with a smile, telling her that he does not kiss and tell. She pouted at him, but he is adamant.

Not that Jethro would mind. He is loves Abby as much as Ducky does. Not to mention that Ducky is more than willing to share with his old friend. The relationship between himself and Gibbs had gotten back on track after what happened with his near death and subsequent ‘antics’. He knows he is as much to blame as Jethro is for the hurt and the pain caused. That was all by the by now, something Ducky is most thankful for.  
First there was the public apology and make up in the bullpen, closely followed by the private lovemaking at his. Ducky knows Jethro well enough to know that his ‘flirtation’ with the pretty blond Colonel is just that. She cannot give him what he needs.

“So, let me get this straight,” Abby asked, “You’re okay with having sex with me and still remaining the best of friends?”

Ducky raised his eyebrows at her with a smile. “I can see absolutely nothing amiss with such a situation.” he replied truthfully, doing his best to dampen down the arousal that was coming dangerously close to pushing into Abby’s thigh. There was no point in rushing things.

Abby cocked her head to one side, reading his expression carefully. “That was a ‘yes’ wasn’t it?” she asked rhetorically.

Ducky nodded, laughing as he did so.

Abby raised a hand from her lap and cupped his face with it. “I thought so,” she whispered softly as she leant forward to kiss him.

Like all first kisses, it was slightly awkward. Understandable, given their positions and that he was still wearing his glasses. Even so, it was still electrifying.

“Wow,” Abby breathed as she squirmed pleasantly on his lap, turning so she could bring both hands up to his face.

“Glad I could meet with your approval,” Ducky murmured, feeling quick shell-shocked himself. If he were to die now, he would go happy. Other than Jethro, he hadn’t been kissed like that in… far too long.

Abby chuckled quietly before turning serious. “Can I?” she asked, her fingers resting lightly on the arms of his spectacles.  
It took a moment for Ducky to realise what she was asking. Even then it took another moment for him to get over the sheer intimacy of it. Yes, his glasses were a hindrance where kissing was concerned but he could think of few things as intimate as someone else lifting them off.

“Why, yes,” he breathed, closing his eyes as she gently slid them off his face. He heard rather than saw her placing them on the table beside them. He opened his eyes to see she had brought her hands up to his face again, her hands carding through his thick hair. He raised his hands to cup her face as he brought her lips to meet his.

She tasted of Caf-Pow and Bourbon and he wanted more. He shifted around in the chair slightly, gently tilting her back in his arms, so that they could kiss in relative comfort.

“Is that a Sig in your pocket, Ducky, or are you just glad to see me?” Abby asked, with a naughty grin on her face when the kiss broke.

He tried to look contrite but failed miserably. “I am afraid so. It happens when beautiful women fall into my lap.” he replied, a twinkle in his eye.

She laughed and leaned into nuzzle his neck. Her fingers gently tugging at an end of his bow tie. “May I?”

Like he was going to say no. “Of course!” he replied, his hand moving caressingly slowly down her curvaceous figure to rest on her knee, fingers splaying over the hem of her black pencil skirt. The same one, teamed with a white blouse and fitted black jacket (which was currently hanging on the hat stand in the hall) that had brought both a court-martial and the NCIS bullpen to a standstill earlier in the day.  
The outfit was positively demure by Abby’s usual standards but it had made an awful lot of people very happy. He had accompanied her both to the court-martial and to the bullpen, mainly because he had been called to give testimony as well. It has been his pleasure to proffer an arm so she didn’t fall because of the high heels she wore. That he got a hell of an ego boost as everyone (outside of NCIS at least) jumped to the conclusion that he was her paramour was neither here nor there.

Her lips moved softly and continuously against his bare throat. His tie and top button were both undone with nimble fingers, with the rest of him following quickly behind. He tilted his head back with a groan as he felt the gentle nip of her teeth against his jugular.

“Abby!” he sighed as her fingers made short work of the rest of his shirt buttons. He felt a hand slide under his shirt, traversing cotton undershirt to play with his nipples. Her mouth was mapping out the contours of his collarbone. It was simply wonderful.

“Yes, Ducky?” she whispered into his shoulder, breath ticklish against his skin.

“May I?” he asked, gently squeezing her knee, feeling the strange and beautiful criss-cross of fishnets under his hand. She might be playing freely with his body with his consent, but he would be damned if he didn’t offer her the same courtesy.

“Like you have to ask?” she huffed with laughter against his sensitised skin. He felt her take his hand in hers and slide it under the wool and sateen of her skirt, trailing fingers over the hot, silken skin of her thigh.

He closed his eyes, letting his sense of touch take precedence. He felt the push of cloth against his wrist as the skirt edged up Abby’s beautiful long legs. His fingers trailed gently across sensitised skin, making her gasp and wriggle against him. The movement, in turn, made his cock ever harder, pushing against his pants for freedom. He thought about paperwork instead of how good that felt. No point in coming before they had gotten going. It seemed to do the trick.

He paused as he felt lace under his fingertips. It had been a while since he had opportunity to feel them, but he knew stocking tops when he felt them. No garter belt, which surprised him for a moment before he realised what was close to his hand.  
Her sex.  
Ducky would have preferred empirical evidence that Abby was just as turned on as he was. Yes, he could feel her raised temperature and heartbeat, not to mention that his other hand was (trying) to cup a pert breast, his thumb rubbing a very sensitive and aroused nipple. He wanted more, to know for sure.

Years before, he would have reached out and touched. Now he stayed his hand.  
“Abby, my dear.” he began gently.

“Is there something wrong, Duck?” she asked, pausing in her exploration of exactly how to get past his suspenders to pull his shirt up. He could hear a small amount of fear in her voice. It struck him that she thought he was going to tell her that this was wrong and he wanted it to stop… when nothing could be further from the truth.

“I simply thought that we should perhaps… adjourn upstairs, to my bedroom?” he commented, gently stroking her thigh with his fingertips. Plain stockings had their charms, but lace and net were far more tactile.

“Oh! I thought…” Abby began, sounding a little sheepish. Ducky let his ‘other’ hand slip to her waist to give her a gentle squeeze.

“Nothing could be further from the truth, my dear!” he soothed. “If anyone should be concerned about being given the brush off, it is I. I’m not exactly a prize-” Anything else he would have said was smothered by Abby’s lips covering his.

“That answer your question, Duckman?” Abby asked as the kiss broke. He nodded, noting that he would have to try and avoid instigating arguments at work, if that was going to be her new way to win an argument. He was not concerned for himself, but for others. Jealousy was a terrible emotion.

Abby stood up with a grace that Ducky could only envy. Between the erection tenting his pants and the protestations of his knees, it would take a moment or two before he could join her.

She turned around on the spot, before staring for a moment at the fire blazing in the grate. She looked beautiful and debauched, her blouse undone to reveal pert cleavage and pale lingerie underneath. Just the incentive he needed to get out of the chair, grumbling knees be damned.

“So I take it that making out in front of the fire is not going to happen tonight then?” She asked artlessly.

Ducky stopped half way out of the chair, not quite believing what he was hearing. He did not want to push his luck to another night but… it was something to hope for.

“Not tonight my dear,” he replied. “Call me a romantic, but I do not think that carpet burns are conductive to setting the mood.” He stood up and opened his arms to her. She went willingly into them, dropping a kiss by his lips as she did so.

“Wrong kind of shag, huh?” she asked, grinning wickedly at him.

“You mean to tell me there is another kind?” he asked, aiming for innocent and failing miserably.

It didn’t matter - she laughed as he led her out of the room and up the stairs to his bedroom.


End file.
